


The Devil Won't Let Me Be

by Pye



Series: Devils!Verse [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mirror Universe, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pye/pseuds/Pye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kirk wakes up, the lights are dim and the chronometer tells him it’s somewhere around the middle of gamma shift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil Won't Let Me Be

**Author's Note:**

> This is the original ending to the previous work in this series. Can stand alone.

When Kirk wakes up, the lights are dim and the chronometer tells him it’s somewhere around the middle of gamma shift.

He looks over to the other side of the bed, cold and empty save for the dagger on the pillow, still dull and crusted red with Puri’s blood. It’s been months and he still hasn’t moved it since the last time he used it.

He wishes it had made him feel better, watching the life drain from Puri’s eyes as Kirk twisted the knife and yanked it out of his chest, but it hadn’t. He just felt hollow, aching like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin.

"Should have saved you, Bonesy," Kirk says aloud, and he hates the way his voice cracks even though there’s nobody around to hear it. He tugs his legs up and rests his chin on his knees, staring at the shelf where Bones’ books still sit, gathering dust.

It always gets him, when he dreams about their last night together. They’re so vivid he could get lost in them, and sometimes he tries. But he always wakes up to the same empty room, and the same empty bed, every day losing more of Bones’ smokey, medicinal scent.

"Don’t know what I’m gonna do when I can’t remember your face anymore."

Kirk’s taken to talking to the empty room like it’ll summon Bones back if he acts enough like he’s still here. Half the crew must think he’s crazy, and maybe he kind of is.

He’s about to get up and take a shower, maybe head down to the brig and shred some more of Puri’s accomplices until he feels better, when there’s a knock at the door.

"This had better be good," Kirk snarls as he pulls on his pants and grabs his phaser, locked to kill because he can never be too careful around his cutthroat fucking crew.

When the door opens with a hiss and the grate of old metal, he sees Sulu and Chekov standing outside, each wearing an equally unsettling smile. They’ve got someone with them, a bloodied prisoner in an unfamiliar blue and black uniform with a bag over his head.

"We got you a present," Sulu says, still grinning like he just told the best joke in the world.

Chekov nods, he doesn’t talk much, and when he does Kirk’s always surprised by how childish his best assassin still sounds. “We think you’ll like him.”

They shove the prisoner into Kirk’s room, laughing when he stumbles and falls to his knees on the carpet, soundless except for a pained grunt when he hits the floor.

"I expect we’ll see you on the bridge tomorrow," Sulu says, and there’s an unspoken ‘or else’ behind it that makes Kirk’s hand twitch towards the phaser at his belt.

"Enjoy," Chekov says, and Kirk hears the door close with the soft chk of metal hitting metal. He turns to the prisoner, who’s still in the middle of the room, sitting motionless on his haunches.

"Well now," Kirk says, circling the man like a predator. "What do we have here?"

"Fuck off," comes the muffled reply, coloured familiar with a syrupy southern drawl, throwing Kirk off worse than a punch ever could. He abandons his plan of attack and tears the bag from the man’s head, struck dumb when he sees Bones appear, eyebrow split and a bruise on his cheek like he’s been in a fistfight but alive, alive and breathing and unmarked like he was when Kirk first met him.

Bones’ eyes go wide as he looks up and yelps, scrambling backwards until he smacks into one of the bookshelves lined up against the wall. “Jim? Why are you- why do you have- what happened to your face?!”

A feral smile creeps across Kirk’s lips as he realizes exactly what his crew’s done for him. He’s always heard about the alternate dimensions, parallel universes Spock’s theorized must exist, but he’s never had the pleasure of meeting any of their counterparts. “I’m Captain James Tiberius Kirk, of the ISS Enterprise. I presume you’re Leonard McCoy.” 

McCoy doesn’t move, barely even breathes as he takes it in. “You’re not Jim,” he says flatly, and looks away, bangs falling over his face.

"You’re not my Bones," Kirk says, kneeling to grab McCoy’s face and yank him forward. "But we’re just going to have to make this work, aren’t we?"

"Fuck you," McCoy spits, a strange fire in his eyes that makes Kirk’s heart ache for what he’s lost.

If this were Bones, he would have already pulled a dagger out of his boot, a poisoned hypo from his sleeve, bit and scratched and fought and then pieced them back together again. His eyes were always cold, even back when he still looked every bit the innocent man that McCoy does.

Kirk kisses McCoy, more a clash of lips and teeth than anything resembling an actual kiss. Then he tangles his fingers in McCoy’s thick hair, pulling his head back as he sinks his teeth into the smooth flesh.

"You’ll love me again," Kirk grits out as he laps at McCoy’s neck and hears a low growl, delighting in the way he feels strong, familiar hands creep up to his shoulders, undoubtedly searching for the right nerve to pinch. "Always prefer it when you fight me."

That isn’t true, the last few years he’s loved the push and pull of a true relationship, having Bones come to him because he chooses, not because he’s forced. Someone he could call a friend. But if McCoy’s ever going to survive here, he needs to be broken before he can rise again as the man Kirk remembers.

In an instant Kirk’s got a squirming, snarling McCoy flipped onto his stomach, arms held painfully behind his back. He rubs up against McCoy’s ass and hears a hitch of breath below him, quickly stifled. It sends a rush of blood south and Kirk’s so hard and ready to claim, arousal pumping through him at the thought of having Bones ride his cock again, just like he used to.

"Gonna fuck you just like this," Kirk murmurs, filthy-hot in McCoy’s ear. "Split you open on my dick."

He forces two fingers past McCoy’s lips, just like he did in his dream and feels teeth clamp on, tearing at the skin of his knuckles. He grabs a hold of McCoy’s hair again and gets a defiant hiss, so he yanks until McCoy’s eyes are watering and he lets go of Kirk’s fingers.

"Don’t worry, baby," he purrs, inspecting the stinging bites with reverence, basking in the pain, the feeling. “Even bad boys like you can learn to be good.”


End file.
